His manner was kindly and quizzical, and Dinah's embarrassment began to pass. But he discomfited her afresh as they walked across the road by saying, "You have made it up with my brother, I see."
Dinah's cheeks burned again. "Yes," she said, after a moment. "We made it up this afternoon."
"That was very lucky—for him," observed Scott rather dryly.
Dinah made a swift leap for the commonplace. "I hate being cross with people," she said, "or to have them cross with me; don't you?"
"I think it is sometimes unavoidable," said Scott gravely.
"Oh, surely you are never cross!" said Dinah impetuously. "I can't imagine it."
"Wait till you see it!" said Scott, with a smile.
They entered the hotel together. Dinah was tingling with excitement. She had managed to escape from her discomfiture, but she still felt that any prolonged intercourse with the man beside her would bring it back. She was beginning to know Scott as one who would not hesitate to say exactly what he thought, and not for all she possessed in the world would she have had him know what had passed in that far corner of the rink so short a time before.
She chattered inconsequently upon ordinary topics as they ascended the stairs together, but when they reached the door of Isabel's sitting-room she became suddenly shy again.
"Hadn't I better run and take off my things?" she whispered. "I feel so untidy."
He looked at her. She was clad in the white woollen cap and coat that she had worn in the day. Her eyes were alight and sparkling, her brown face flushed. She looked the very incarnation of youth.
"I think she will like to see you as you are," said Scott.
He knocked upon the door three times as before, and in a moment opened it.
"Go in, won't you?" he said, standing back.
Dinah entered.
"Ah! She has come!" A hollow voice said, and in a moment her shyness was gone.
She moved forward eagerly, saw Isabel seated in a low chair, and impulsively went to her. "How kind you are to ask me to come again!" she said.
And then all in a moment Isabel's arms came out to her, and she slipped down upon her knees beside her into their close embrace.
"How kind of you to come, dear child!" Isabel murmured. "I am afraid it is a visit to the desert for you."
"But I love to come!" Dinah told her with warm lips raised. "I can't tell you how much. I was never so happy before. Each day seems lovelier than the last."
Isabel kissed her lingeringly, tenderly. "My dear, you have a happy heart," she said. "Tell me what you have been doing since I saw you last!"
She would have let her go, but Dinah clung to her still, her cheek against her shoulder. "I have been very frivolous, dear Mrs. Everard," she said. "I have done lots of things. This afternoon we were luging, and now I have just come from the carnival, I wish you could have been there. Some people are wearing the most horrible masks. Billy—my brother—has a beauty. He made it himself. I rather wanted it to wear, but he wouldn't part with it."
"You could never wear a mask, sweetheart," Isabel said, clasping the small brown hand in hers. "Your face is too sweet a thing to hide."
Dinah hugged her in naïve delight. "I always thought I was ugly before," she said.
Isabel's face wore a wan smile. She stroked the girl's soft cheek. "My dear, no one with a heart like yours could have an ugly face. How did you enjoy your dance with Eustace last night?"
Dinah bent her head a little, wishing earnestly that Scott were not in the room. "I loved it," she said in a low voice.
"And afterwards?" questioned Isabel. "No one was vexed with you, I hope?"
Dinah hesitated. "Colonel de Vigne wasn't best pleased, I'm afraid," she said, after a moment.
"He scolded you!" said Isabel, swift regret in her voice. "I am so sorry, dear child. I ought to have gone to look after you. I was selfish."
"Oh no—indeed!" Dinah protested. "It was entirely my own fault. He would have been cross in any case. They are like that."
Isabel uttered a sigh. "I shall have to try to meet them. Naturally they will not let you come to total strangers. Stumpy, remind me in the morning! I must manage somehow to meet this child's guardians."
"Of course, dear," said Scott.
Dinah, glancing towards him, saw him exchange a swift look with the old nurse in the background, but his voice held neither surprise nor gratification. He took out a cigarette and began to smoke.
Isabel leaned back in her chair with abrupt weariness as if in reaction from the strain of a sudden unwonted exertion. "Let me see! Do I know your Christian name? Ah yes—Dinah! What a pretty gipsy name! I think you are a little gipsy, are you not? You have the charm of the woods about you. Won't you sit in that chair, dear? You can't be comfortable on the floor."
But Dinah preferred to sit down against her knee, still holding the slender, inert hand.
"Tell me about your home!" Isabel said, closing languid eyes. "I can't talk much more, but I can listen. It does not tire me to listen."
Dinah hesitated somewhat. "I don't think you would find it very interesting," she said.
"But I am interested," Isabel said. "You live in the country, I think you said."
"At a place called Perrythorpe," Dinah said. "It's a great hunting country. My father hunts a lot and shoots too."
"Do you hunt?" asked Isabel.
"Oh no, never! There's never any time. I go for rambles sometimes on Sundays. Other days I am always busy. Fancy me hunting!" said Dinah, with a little laugh.
"I used to," said Isabel. "They always said I should end with a broken neck. But I never did."
"Are you very fond of riding?" asked Dinah.
"Not now, dear. I am not fond of anything now. Tell me some more, won't you? What makes you so busy that you never have time for any fun?"
Again Dinah hesitated. "You see, we're poor," she said. "My mother and I do all the work of the house and garden too."
"And your father is able to hunt?" Isabel's eyes opened. Her hand closed upon Dinah's caressingly.
"Oh yes, he has always hunted," Dinah said. "I don't think he could do without it. He would find it so dull."
"I see," said Isabel. "But he can't afford pleasures for you."
There was no perceptible sarcasm in her voice, but Dinah coloured a little and went at once to her father's defence.
"He sends Billy to a public school. Of course I—being only a girl—don't count. And he has sent us out here, which was very good of him—the sweetest thing he has ever done. He had a lucky speculation the other day, and he has spent it nearly all on us. Wasn't that kind of him?"
"Very kind, dear," said Isabel gently. "How long are you to have out here?"
"Only three weeks, and half the time is gone already," sighed Dinah. "The de Vignes are not staying longer. The Colonel is a J.P., and much too important to stay away for long. And they are going to have a large house-party. There isn't much more than a week left now." She sighed again.
"And then you will have no more fun at all?" asked Isabel.
"Not a scrap—nothing but work." Dinah's voice quivered a little. "I don't suppose it has been very good for me coming out here," she said. "I—I believe I'm much too fond of gaiety really."
Isabel's hand